Falling Slowly
by darlingsybil
Summary: Modern AU. On a whirlwind trip to Ireland, Sybil Crawley has a list of sights to see that she hopes will help mend her broken heart. Only what she doesn't expect is the company of a certain cocky musician by the name of Tom Branson. Together, they discover that it really isn't the destination that matters, but the journey...
1. Chapter 1

The flash of her Polaroid camera illuminated the pub and for a split second, Sybil could see the musician clearly through the peephole.

It amused her because if she closed her eyes, she would've thought that his voice belonged to a middle-aged folk singer with a tangled beard and layers of clothing not the young man on stage. She pulled the film from her camera, shook it and watched as he continued his performance.

With his eyes closed, he strummed the strings of his guitar, his fingers knowing exactly where to be. He played as though the instrument were attached him; that he wouldn't function if the battered guitar left his hands. Even though the pub was near empty, he sang with all his heart, the words like a love letter to those listening.

"_Falling slowly, eyes that know me and I can't go back. Moods that take me and erase me and I'm painted black_."

She recognised the song. How could she not? It had been one of her favourites and she remembered how much she had begged Jones to take her to the 'Once' musical when it opened on the West End. Jones. She lowered her eyes as she thought about the way he had continuously protested until one morning, she woke to find tickets on her pillow.

Her phone rang, shaking her out of her reverie, and quickly she answered it, shoving her camera into her bag and excusing herself from the pub.

"Gwen, did you find it?" she asked eagerly as she stepped outside, shivering against the cold Dublin wind.

"God, Sybs, people keep looking at me like I broke into your car."

"Well, you _did_," Sybil replied, "Who knew that you having a criminal as an ex would be a good thing?"

"Hey, he wasn't a crim. He was just strapped for cash."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "So, was it there?"

"Yep, found it in the glove compartment. I can't believe you seriously left your driver's license there."

Sybil groaned, wondering how she could've been so stupid. If there was something that she desperately needed to bring with her, it was that. Now, her plan was ruined.

"Where are you anyway?" Gwen asked. "Where'd you travel to without your car?"

It was the question that Sybil was keen to avoid. Not even her family knew where she was but she knew that it was useless to lie to Gwen. That redhead could see through all her bullshit.

She took a breath and said, "I'm in Dublin."

"You're _where_?"

"Dublin, Gwen. You know good ole Irish Dublin."

"What the hell are you doing there? Oh God, is this because of Jones' list because Sybs –"

Sybil feel silent as she listened to her friend ramble on and once she had finished, all Sybil could reply with was, "I have to do this."

"Why didn't you tell me? I would've come with you."

She could hear the hurt in her best friend's voice and even though, she wished Gwen were here, she had been adamant to this alone. Especially without someone who shared memories of Jones.

"I'll be fine. I'm only here for the week anyway so I'll be home before anyone notices I was gone."

"Ha! You do realise that you're part of the Crawley family? You know, the family that gets in each other's business like it's their own. Any bet once I hang up, Mary or your mother will call you. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if Granny Vi sends you a telegram."

"She's knows how to use a phone, Gwen."

"After that time where she sent your dad a text asking for her cock fixed, I very much doubt she's going to be using it."

"Gosh, she meant clock! I'm never telling you anything that happens with my family again," Sybil said but even she couldn't hide the grin that settled on her face."

"Sure, she did. Hey, Sybs, I have to go," Gwen paused, "but you text me or call me or Skype or whatever to let me how you're doing, okay?"

"Yes, mum."

"You better, young lady!"

When Gwen hanged up, Sybil slipped her phone into her pocket, but as she did, her fingers brushed against a piece of paper. She didn't need to pull it out, already knowing what was on it, but she decided to and unfolded it, her face staring back at her from the Polaroid. As she flipped it around, she traced the familiar handwriting on the back, mouthing the words 'Love you Sybil, J' with a sad smile.

Oh god, did she need another drink.

* * *

When she sat back inside the Bran pub, she did not expect to have the musician be her bartender as he stood behind the counter, rag over his shoulder and a friendly smirk on his face.

"What can I get you, love?" he said.

She tensed at the last word but quickly shook her head, snapping out of it. "I'll just have a sex on the beach, please."

His smirk grew as he replied, "Well, if you're asking, you should probably tell me your name first."

Sybil's eyes widened but not at the joke. No, it was more at the feeling that he seemed like the sort of bartender who hit on every girl that walked in. That was something she definitely did not need.

"Just the drink," she said civilly. He shrugged his shoulder and left. When he returned with her drink, he leaned forward on the counter and smiled at her.

"Fancy seeing a girl like you in a place like this," he said, watching as she took a sip.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's not every night we have English ladies here _alone_." He raised his eyebrows. "I'm just saying that for you to be here, it means that you're either desperate or you're running away from something."

Sybil nearly choked on her drink. "You know," she said, placing her glass on the table, "I think I liked you better on stage than here."

The bartender rested his head against his knuckles and replied, "I know. I saw you take a photo of me with that ancient camera of yours. Did you get my good side?"

Digging into her bag, Sybil pulled out the Polaroid and handed it to him. "You can have it," she said with a forced smile. "Because I certainly don't want it anymore."

The bartender chuckled, "You missed the best part of me." He showed her the shot. "Forgot my head."

"That was on purpose."

Knowing that he had definitely annoyed her, he raised his hands and stepped away. "I guess I should know when someone doesn't enjoy my blarney."

"You call _that_ blarney?"

The bartender slipped the photo into his shirt's pocket and folded his arms over his chest. "Hey, I should have you know, I kissed the damn stone years ago."

Sybil leaned forwarded, intrigued. The stone of Blarney castle was on her list and this was the first time she had encountered someone who had actually been there. "So, you believe that legend? That anyone who kisses the Blarney Stone gets the ability of sweet talking?"

"Course I do," the bartender said. "I'm Irish. Anyone who doesn't believe it must be, well, English."

"I'll pretend not to be offended," was her reply as she glared at him, much to his amusement.

"My family and I go there every year for Saint Pat's," the bartender explained. "Tradition we have. You ever been?"

Sybil shakes her head. "It's my first time in Ireland but I will see it, or I might. Actually, I'm not quite sure. I've had a change of plans," she stopped talking but the bartended genuinely looked interested and whether it was the amount of alcohol that she had had or her disappointment, she found words spilling out of her mouth.

"I'm supposed to be road tripping around Ireland. Heading to the Bog of Allen, then up North to the Giant's Causeway, then Kylmore Abbey, Cliffs of Moher and finally, Blarney Castle. But I'm a silly idiot and I left my driver's license back in England and so I'm honestly considering illegally driving a car in a foreign country." She raised her glass and took one last sip of it, before she handed it back to him. "Does it sadden you to know that I am not desperate as you so call claimed?"

He reached to take the glass from her, but as he did, he let his fingers linger over hers for a split second longer than he had to before he took it away. He stared at her, making her shift in her seat, and said, "So, I take it you're running away then?"

She scoffed but she felt her chest tighten.

"Hmm, let me think," he said. "Don't think it's your family. Could be your job. No, actually, I'm putting this on boyfriend. Actually, I'll say ex-boyfriend. Am I right?"

Her silence was enough confirmation for him and he nodded proudly.

"Oh, I am good," he said. "And so now you're on a whirlwind trip to Ireland taking in all that's grand about my land. Why don't you just take one of those sightseeing buses? Won't cost you that much."

"It has to be a road trip," Sybil said firmly. "It just – it has to be." With a sigh, she asked, "How much do you think that would cost by taxi?"

He let out a low whistle, smacking his jaw. "You're kidding, aren't you? You might as well buy your own taxi for half the price."

Sybil groaned. "Oh, I knew that was a ridiculous idea. I don't even know why I considered it." Standing up, she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, reaching into her pocket for money and handing it to him. "That's for the drink."

"Would've thought it was for my delightful conversation," he replied, taking the note. "Good luck."

She gave him a courteous wave as she left the pub. She zipped up her jacket and began heading down the street to her hotel when she a sudden tap at her shoulder had her spin around in shock.

"Christ, what the hell do you want now?" she shrieked as she found herself face to face with the bartender.

He flashed a grin – one she very much did not like – and stretched his arms out before clutching at the back of his neck. "I have an idea," he declared. "A grand idea. How about," he paused and she twitched her head, waiting for his words, "I drive you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I'll drive you to those places. Heck, I've been to all of them so at least you know you're getting quality service and I charge far less than whatever a taxi will give you."

_He's insane. Absolutely, positive insane_, Sybil thought as she gave a shrill laugh. "Are you kidding me? I don't even know you! You could be a murder or perverted, ugh!"

Tom gasped, offended by her accusations. "I'll have you know I'm none of those things. Call my Ma. She'll tell you."

"Christ, I am not calling your mother!" Oh god, she could feel her head throb. This was not how she was expecting her first night in Dublin to be. The drinking, maybe, but definitely not the random stranger in the street offering to drive her around.

"Actually, it's Tom, but hey, call me what you want, I don't mind," he said, rubbing his hands over his arms. "At least I trying to be a good samaritan." He began to walk away, when he stopped at the sound of his name.

"Your name's Tom," she said slowly as he turned around to find her moving towards him. "Tom."

He nodded, confused by her sudden interest in his name. "You got a problem with the name Tom?"

She brought her hand to her head and closed her eyes. "No, it's not-oh, just, never mind," she replied. She looked up at him, "Why would you do that for me? Drive me around Ireland?"

"Well, the pub's not doing that great," he said, shuffling his feet. "Gotta help the family business some way."

"Your family owns the pub?"

"Tom Branson, son of Colm Branson, owner of the Bran Pub," he stated. "Listen, I'm none of those things you said. Yes, I like to the take the piss out of people sometimes but I promise that's the worst of me."

"That and your humour."

"Maybe, probably but the thing is, I'm willing to help you and you know what they say, if you turn your back on an Irishman than you'll never be lucky again."

Sybil snorts. "I've never heard that before."

"Beecause you've never met anyone stupid enough to do it. Listen, I can promise you that you won't be bored at all the entire trip. You won't be able to shut me up."

"That's what I'm afraid of." She grew silent, musing over his idea. It honestly was crazy and her plan had always been to travel in solitude, but now that she was left without a driver's license, it wasn't like she had any other choice. Knowing that she would definitely regret it in the morning, she hung her head and closed her eyes, wincing as the words left her mouth, "Fine, I'll do it."

"Really?" he exclaimed, his blue eyes shining. "Didn't think it'd work."

"Well, it has," she snapped and he shuts up, nodding. "I swear, though, I won't have any funny business or else wherever we are, I'm kicking you out of your car, you hear that?"

"Yes, m'am," he replied with a wink. "We're going to have fun."

Sybil groaned, thankful that she still had some alcohol left in her hotel room.

* * *

A/N: Yep, another story! Woo, but I am not giving up on my other ones especially Star-Crossed Lovers so I'll be alternating between that one and this. So, this is loosely inspired by Leap Year (great movie, check it out everyone!) and something else but that might give it away. It'd be great to know what you guys think so far. :) And there's a very very tiny hint to what my next story will be after Star-Crossed Lovers is finished. Curious if anyone can figure it out hehe. Anyhow, night y'all!


	2. Chapter 2

Sybil woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a text from Tom to meet him at the Bran Pub. At first, her heart flurried at the sight of the name until she realised that it belonged to Tom Branson.

When she arrived at the pub, she realised that it was far different than what she remembered from the night before. In the daylight, it seemed more – well, Irish. The walls were painted a murky yellow and clovers were painted across. Green banners hung from the ceiling with Gaelic writing and as Sybil took a seat, she noticed the tables were carved with intricate patterns.

"Anything I can get you, love?" the waiter asked.

"Um, I'm actually here to see Tom?" Sybil replied. The waiter put his notepad down and gave her a curious onceover.

"So, you're the English brood who's taking Tommy around Ireland," he stated.

"Excuse me?"

The waiter shook his head and yelled at the back door, "Tommy, your gal's here."

Sybil felt the eyes of the other patrons turn towards her and she slid down in her chair, trying to shield her face with her hand. When she looked back up, she found Tom walking towards her, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Hope Kieran didn't scare you," Tom said, sitting down opposite her. "He can be an arse at times, but he's a teddy bear."

"We should get something to eat quickly," Sybil replied. "And then head off as soon as we can."

"Slow down, Speedy Gonzales. We have all the time in the world for that."

Sybil glared at him. "No, we have six days actually and if my estimations are correct, then it should take us no less than two."

"Are you always this ray of sunshine in the morning?"

"Apparently only when it comes to you," Sybil said with a forced smile.

He seemed to take the hint and went off to the kitchen, leaving Sybil by herself. She hadn't meant to be rude. In fact, it surprised that she had snapped so quickly. It was unlike her and as she rubbed her fingers over her temples, she thought back to two days before when she made the decision to come to Ireland.

* * *

_"Sybil, are you sure you're okay there?" Edith called out from the nursery._

_"I'm fine. You take care of my godson," Sybil replied as she settled on the couch. She grabbed the remote and began switching through the channels and just as she was about to close the television, a film came on and she found herself leaning in closer to the box._

_"He's being awfully cranky today," Edith said, entering the room with baby Johnny in her hands. "Anthony and I have barely had any sleep the last couple of weeks."_

_"Hmm," Sybil replied. She had her eyes glued to the screen and as Edith sat down next to her sister, she let out a sigh, realising what was on television._

_"Are you okay to watch this? I can change the channel if you want?"_

_"I get enough patronizing from Mary, Edith. I don't need it from you as well."_

_Edith grew silent and Sybil shook her head, lowering the volume._

_"I'm so sorry," Sybil said. "I don't know what's wrong with me."_

_Edith moved Johnny to sit between them on the couch. She reached out for Sybil's hand and squeezed it gently. "It's understandable. It's nearly been a year. Listen, why don't you stay around for dinner? Anthony would love to see you and you can spend more time with Johnny here."_

_Johnny seemed to pick up on his name and began giggling, saliva dropping down on his chin._

_"He's grown so big now. I feel like I've barely seen him," Sybil said, tugging at Johhny's finger. She knew her words were true. The last time she had seen him was over a month ago at their parent's anniversary dinner. "But I should go. I have to do something."_

_"You're always welcome here," Edith said. "Always."_

* * *

"Here we are, eggs and sausage and bacon. You're not some freak vegetarian, are you?" Tom said, placing the plates on the table.

"Actually, I am," Sybil replied. She watched as an uncomfortable expression settled on his face, before she added quickly, "I'm just joking."

Tom instantly let out a sigh and pretended to wipe his brow. "Oh, so now you're funny. It's good. I'd rather that than angry English lady." He sat down and began digging into his food, motioning for her to start.

She hadn't realised how hungry she was until she took her first bite of the sausage and instantly devoured the rest of her breakfast. It was a welcome change to the last meal she had had – dinner on the airplane – and as she finished off her last bite, she found Tom smirking at her.

"I take it you liked it?" he replied.

"My compliments to the chef."

"I'll let Kieran know that he's good for something then."

"So…" Sybil began, putting her plate aside and pulling out a map from her bag. She spread it out on the table, their destinations clearly marked with a large cross. "As I said before, it should take us no less than two days to travel."

Leaning over, Tom looked at her map. "Nope. Can't do that. It's not the Irish way."

"I'm paying you, remember?"

"Let's talk about that first, actually," Tom replied, his eyebrows raised. "Since you're making me take you all the way to up north and then back down again, I'm thinking 1500? That should settle everything."

"Excuse me," Sybil exclaimed. "That's far too much."

"Alright, 1200."

"900."

"1100."

"A grand."

"Deal," Tom said enthusiastically, sticking out his hand. Sighing, she shook it and he gave her one of his infamous grins that was she knew she already was sick of.

* * *

"Are you sure it'll work?"

Sybil folded her arms over chest and tilted her head, frowning at the so-called car in front of her. It was an old, _old_ Diesel with scratches on its navy blue surface and dents on the doors. The car's aerial was crooked and looking in on the inside, Sybil could tell it was far worse than its exterior.

"What do you mean? She's beaut. Good ole Bess here," Tom said, walking around to Sybil. "She's never failed me before."

"Have you seen the look of your car?"

"You should never judge a car by it's paint," Tom replied, wagging a finger at her. "The boot's been jammed for a while, so we need to put our stuff in the back seat, though."

Sybil raised an eyebrow as Tom opened the back door for her. "Are you sure there's not a body there or something?" she asked, throwing in her duffel bag.

Tom pretended to look aghast and drew a cross across his chest, replying, "Cross my heart or else I ain't Irish."

When they left the Bran pub, it was close to midday and according to Tom, their first stop – the Bog of Allen – was only an hour away.

"You were saying?" Sybil said, as they only managed to travel several blocks, the streets heavily congested with traffic.

"Well, it's a Sunday. It's good luck to travel on a Sunday," Tom replied as he stretched his arms, sticking one out of the window.

"A superstition? You believe in them? And please don't say because you're Irish."

Tom pressed his foot on the accelerator as the cars in front of them began to move. "Well, I _am_. I happen to believe in many things actually. I believe that we need more equality in the world and that some governments are complete shite. I believe in God and yes, I believe in superstition."

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, waiting for some outburst, but to his surprise, she had grown silent. "I'm guessing you're not a believer."

"I'm not sure what I believe in," she said with a shrug. _At least not anymore_, she thought.

"You should always have something to believe in," Tom said with a nod. They weaved through the streets of Dublin, passing by the old brick buildings and for every pub, there seemed to be a church nearby. As Sybil took polaroids, Tom babbled about the history of the certain buildings until they left the city and he stopped, having realised that Sybil hadn't said a word.

"Am I boring you?" Tom joked.

Sybil shook her head. "No, of course not. I think it's wonderful you're so passionate about your city. "

Tom grinned. "'Course I am. It's where I grew up. What about you? I imagine you grew up in one of those nice English houses in London."

"Not quite." Sybil bit her lip, deciding it was better to keep some things to herself. "I grew up in Yorkshire, but I moved to London to study."

"Ah, photography?"

Sybil held up her camera. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, I was going to guess astrophysics but the camera was a bit of a giveaway. You do realise that there are such things as digital cameras? You wouldn't have to carry that large thing all the time."

"Says the one who has a piece of junk as their car."

"Hey, Bessie here is sexy beast," Tom said, stroking the dashboard. "It's okay, dear. The rude English lady didn't mean it."

Sybil scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. She still couldn't believe that here she was on the way to Bog of Allen with a _stranger_. Sure, she knew bits about Tom, but still, he wasn't Jones.

* * *

"_Come on, Sybs. We'll be late," Jones cried out. "If we're too late to enter, I'm not taking you again."_

"_I'm coming. Don't worry!" _

_As she stepped into the living room, she found him in front of the hallway mirror, dressed in a grey suit with his black hair combed back, desperately trying to knot his tie properly. _

"_You look dapper," Sybil said as she moved in front of him, taking the silk from his hands. "Who knew all it took was the theatre for you to dress up."_

"_You look just as nice," he said. "You know, Sybs. I've been thinking and since Christmas is coming up, how about we take that long awaited trip to Ireland?"_

_She tugged on his tie and replied, raising her eyebrow, "You mean your long awaited trip?"_

"_Our long awaited trip. You've always wanted to see the Cliffs of Moher ever since you found out it was in The Princess Bride." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "Come on, it'll be fun."_

"_We can't," Sybil said, swatting at his chest. "We promised your parents we'd stay with them for Christmas."_

"_Ah, they won't care. Please." He pouted, his brown eyes in puppy mode and instantly she found herself giggling at his face._

"_Is that a yes then?" he asked eagerly and as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, she answered, "It's a 'we'll see'. Now come on, I don't want to be late for Once."_

* * *

"And this is it. The Bog of Allen. Great name - Allen. I have an uncle with that name. Used to give me candy all the time," Tom said. He moved closer to Sybil, watching her as she surveyed the land. Even though the Bog was historic, known for its peatlands, Tom had no idea why a young woman like Sybil would want to visit it. All that was there were acres of dirt and mud with patches of green throughout. In fact, he was sick of it himself, having visited numerous times when he on school excursions.

Letting out a sigh, Sybil crouched to ground and took a photo of a cluster of white flowers.

"Did you know," she began, looking up at Tom through her sunglasses, "that it took over 10,000 years for the Bog to form?"

"I did," Tom said, "but how did you know that?"

Sybil shrugged her shoulders. "I'm full of fun facts," she replied, but as her smile slipped away, Tom could tell there was more to it. "How far is it to the Giant's Causeway?"

"Nearly four hours, give or take."

Standing up and shaking the dirt off from her jeans, Sybil then took out a piece of paper and pen from her purse and crossed out something on the page. "It's just the list," Sybil explained as she could feel his prying eyes. "Shall we be off, then?"

"Whatever you say, m'am."

* * *

AN: Ahh, tremendously sorry for the delay! Uni's just been a pain and I started a new job. I've never been to Ireland before, so forgive me if I make any mistakes concerning the country. Hope y'all enjoy and let me know what you guys think :)


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